


What You Don't Know Will Kill You

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Angst, Falling In Love, Frustration, Grace Bonds, Grace Sharing, Healing, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Relationship, One-sided Michael/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Possessive Behavior, Protective Gabriel, Romance, Sharing a Body, Unrequited Love, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t know it, but he belongs to Gabriel. So when his wings flutter and shine in the moonlight, they’re not flashing for Michael. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between Fate and the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Summary/prompt is from Gabriel’s Lover is Dean (aka [**TricksterLove)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterLove/pseuds/TricksterLove), who requested archangel Gabriel/angel Dean and a pining Michael. Thanks so much for the prompt and I hope you like this. It was originally supposed to be a one shot, but it grew from there and now it has expanded into chapters. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Lacuna Coil’s ‘A Ghost Between Us’

Dean has waited a long time to find a mate.

For angels there were other more important priorities: following the will of a father who has been long gone, watching over human charges, training endlessly for a fight that will come sooner rather than later. Dean was tired of fighting though, tired of feeling lost and alone.

Not every angel found their mate, not all were so blessed, but many did.

There were no angel and human grace bonds, for it was blasphemy in the eyes of their father, but there were angel bonds and very rarely there were archangel/angel bonds. Lucifer was rumored to have a bond with an angel in his domain, though he was never spoken of, and Michael had set his sights on Dean for reasons unknown. The other archangels interfered little with the “average stock” that was Dean and his kind.

Except Gabriel.

Gabriel was the youngest and the rashest, he enjoyed playing pranks on the angels and took an active role in their training and assignments. So did Michael, though mainly for the purpose of courting Dean.

He berated himself for saying it, but Dean didn’t feel all that special when Michael came around; yes, he’s was an archangel and yes, archangels never kept their gazes long on angels who were beneath them, but Dean always had this sinking pit of dread in his stomach. His grace told him that he and Michael were to be bonded, but he felt himself hover on the very edge of certainty. It felt like a lie, a lie that Dean was only contributing to.

Michael’s eyes on him made him uncomfortable and not only that, but he was the leader, so to speak, in their father’s absence. There was too much responsibility there, too many sets of eyes staring at Dean, waiting for him to make a move.

Too much pressure and too soon.

That and Dean didn’t deserve that bond, not when there was uncertainty. There were many angels out there who would give their wings for such an honor, so many angels worthier than Dean. Yet it wasn’t about archangels in particular, it was about one archangel who wasn’t Michael.

Gabriel was never far from his brother. He had a personality like the raging sun and a laugh that could be heard from miles away, a smile that cut through the thick, murky clouds inside Dean and snapped him to attention. Gabriel was loud and passionate about so many things, he railed against authority from his brother and sulked when he doesn’t get his way.

Dean liked all that and more about him.

Gabriel was afraid of nothing and no one. He had no shame, no regrets, made no apologies for his actions. Because he was so beloved he was always forgiven, always given priority, forever paraded around so Dean could look upon him openly as often as he dared. 

Yet he hadn’t seen Gabriel today. His training had been long and arduous, even more so than usual. He knew that he must train his wings to sustain him for long periods of time, but his feathers were twisted and his wings trembled and ached fiercely and he began to doubt himself. If Michael had been there he would have flashed him a dazzling smile and gave him whispered words of encouragement, words that Dean would have known he did not deserve.

Dean didn’t necessarily need the support; however, it was the walking back to his bunker that had him feeling isolated and cut off from the rest of his brethren.

“Want some company?” A voice came from out of the fog surrounding Dean, and with a sharp snap of fingers in the silence the thick substance that had once clouded Dean’s sight dissipated until he could see everything in his path. The bunker wasn’t far in reality, but it was farther than Dean hoped it would be.

He whipped around and came face-to-face with a smirking Gabriel. His hand was so close to Dean’s wing and Dean shuddered, but Gabriel stepped backward knowingly and threw him a giving smile. A small gift for Dean alone.

A gift greater than the gifts his brother had already bestowed upon him, but archangels were whispered to have the ability to read minds, and Dean easily cut off his thoughts.

Gabriel certainly had better things to do than follow Dean home, but he didn’t begrudge the company. 

“Training’s over already?” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow and Dean awkwardly rubbed his wing again. He didn’t want to show vulnerability before his superior, but as Gabriel stared at him he felt his wing twitch uncomfortably, which further aggravated the soreness that seemed to lie bone-deep. When he looked up at the almighty Gabriel again, there was a look of concern written over his face and not merely in his eyes, where it was prone to hide. “Are you alright, Dean?”

That’s what they called him because his name was too long, longer than the names of his brothers and sisters. A blush spread across his cheeks as he heard Gabriel speak it though, Gabriel who should have just called him angel.

Gabriel, who had no reason to call him anything _but_ angel.

Dean nodded quickly in the hopes that it might lessen the archangel’s suspicion, yet if Gabriel wanted to pry he had every right to, and Dean knew he would give up everything in an instant. All Gabriel had to do was ask.

Knowing this Dean wanted to turn away from him, but didn’t dare to. Gabriel could send him back to the training fields if he wanted to, and he should considering Dean was showing such blatant weakness in front of him. He may look in awe upon Gabriel’s power when the archangel was not paying him mind, but deep down he knew he could never gain Gabriel’s sympathy or understanding.

Gabriel was too far out of reach for him, and dreams did not measure up in his home.

“Let me know if they’re working you too hard, okay?”

Dean’s eyes widened at Gabriel’s playful statement, and to make it even worse Gabriel patted his shoulder, winked at him and disappeared. Dean stood there staring at where he had once been for a long while until he began walking again. The way back wasn’t far, but Dean already found himself missing Gabriel’s company.

His wings settled against his sides, relaxing, but inside Dean’s grace was ramming against him. 

* * *

 

Gabriel almost exploded in desperation.

 _His mate_.

He had found him.

Dean would be considered a lowly angel by many, though it was mainly to do with his young age. He had not even graduated and been assigned a garrison yet, and he was still far too inexperienced in the eyes of his family’s confidantes. Dean was a quick study, he learned fast and fought hard, but he was painfully shy and withdrawn too, and Michael’s attempts to pull him out of his shell proved futile at best, but mainly because it was his brother trying and not Gabriel.

Yet it did not matter what the others thought, Gabriel trusted them and took their counsel in some matters but laughed at them in others. To the archangel, Dean was the greatest prize, and not because Michael misguidedly believed that he was meant for him.

Dean was beautiful and intelligent and talented. He was in the top ranks of the Academy and with a little luck he would be leading a garrison in no time. It was hard for Gabriel to not show up and watch Dean soar through the skies, knocking angels down with one swift blow.

It would be easier if Dean’s grace did not beckon him nearer like a siren call, but that was his own grace talking. Most of the time Gabriel had tuned it out, but not now. He couldn’t afford to lose Dean with his recklessness and ignorance for everything and everyone else around him. It would be easier if Gabriel would only step forward and claim Dean as his own.

But he waited, waited for Dean to make the first move. Dean had to since he was the one not in power, and the accusation could easily be thrown at Gabriel that he had corrupted Dean if he made the first move. No. One day Dean would come to understand, and until then he would wait for...

_His mate._

* * *

 

Gabriel was holding a celebration for the graduates of the Academy in his Father’s home. Ownership of the estate had in fact passed to his older brother Michael, but Gabriel had commented to him once - rashly Dean thought, but he always believed that whenever Gabriel let Dean in and spoke about his life and growing up with his brothers - that Michael had long since forsaken it and lived elsewhere, giving the property to Gabriel, yet he also mentioned that he didn’t spend much time there, despite still calling it home.

Dean didn’t know what that word meant exactly: home. He knew heaven was his home and the other angels his brothers and sisters. He knew that once he gave into his grace and accepted Michael then he would live wherever Michael did, sharing his time and his attention and his own home.

He had never entered their home before, but he felt the memories of the archangels soak into his sensitive grace as he was pushed further into the house with his friends and fellow graduates. There was pain and anger here, a desperation so fierce and so _raw_ that his wings tingled before beginning to throb in phantom pain. He wanted to leave, suspecting the other angels felt not a thing or that they were too drunk upon success to take notice, but as much as Dean wanted to leave his grace was also pulling him further into the house, specifically into the kitchen, which was an entirely human creation. 

Dean was no stranger to human food; he often saw Gabriel taking a bite out of what he called an apple, or wrapping his mouth around something sticky, items that smelled sweet, but he still gawked as he took in the immensity of the room. The counters were pearly white and the devices a shiny metal that seemed to reflect any source of light. In the center stood a table heaped with things that Dean could not name, items in every shape, size and color. Food did not phase the other angels, they could not taste it after all, but Dean rarely saw Gabriel without food. It must have some comfort to him, comfort that Michael also seemed to reciprocate as he licked his fingers and glanced up at Dean.

The smile was broad and it was all for Dean, but it didn’t calm him down, could not cease the memories brushing against him, whispering long held secrets. Secrets he had no right to know. Gabriel was there too, hovering in the background where he seemed most comfortable, watching his brother and Dean with sharp eyes but kind ones nonetheless. His warm, honeyed wings were tucked away safely, and though Michael’s broad white ones were out they gave off no light.

An archangel’s wings did not shine for their mate, only an angel’s. Archangels had power even beyond the angels’ understanding, they could hide away so easily and give away nothing unless it was their will, unless it was their _fate_.

Dean’s wings were shining even though they were tucked away as well; he could see out of the corner of his eye the ripples of light along his shoulder blades. Michael was strong arms and assertive voice and intent so clear. Gabriel was shadowed, but with a smirk bright enough to rival the coming dawn. Michael was carefully chiseled edges and his presence was commanding and _safe_. Gabriel was uncontrollable energy bound up so tight, playfulness that came across as grating but also welcomed. He wasn’t sure but he was just as proud as his brother.

He jumped this way and that until Dean became dizzy with the immensity of him and how well he fit and how well he hid when he wanted to. He was so very different from Michael, but he was his brother too and that much was clear. The little brother who could hold his own, the archangel that roared alongside his brother like a bright and fiery sun.

When Gabriel was near Dean could feel himself falling, so abruptly and so quickly, with nothing to grasp onto.

His wings hid their light away again when he exited the kitchen. It was a sign that he was learning to control his grace, with the power he deemed still far out of his control.

It was a sign that he was Michael’s.


	2. I See Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realized that the word _mate_ coming from Michael’s mouth was full of so much confidence and longing, but nothing else in Dean’s short existence had ever felt so hollow. Gabriel’s piercing amber eyes seemed to follow him down where he hid, where he didn’t want anyone to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is _such_ a long time coming and I am so ashamed but I hope this is worth it. After tweaking this chapter numerous times and nagging writer’s block, I’m at least a lot closer to knowing where I want this to end and finishing this. Again, _severely_ sorry for the delay to anyone still interested and especially to recipient TricksterLove. 
> 
> **Soundtrack:** Paradise Lost’s ‘I See Your Face’

 

_~When I see your frown, hurt will put me down_

_If I could see a light shining_

_Is this borrowed time maybe a final time_

_That I can see a light shining~_

* * *

 

Gabriel preached patience but Michael was growing to be anything but.

From the start he had his end goal in sight: merely wait for Dean to graduate and then claim him before a royal ceremony. He would make it quick and painless for the angel, for it was clear that Dean was overly confused and thus, awkward as to the formal arrangements. Gabriel had urged him for years now to take it slow, that Dean was a warrior and if push came to shove the angel would prove his worth. Michael didn’t doubt Dean’s worth, just that it would come out against his mate before the ceremony. Not that Michael needed proof of it. Everyone knew that Gabriel could be prone to delusions, and if Michael didn’t know any better he would think that his own brother had an interest in his destined mate.

He laughed off both that notion and Gabriel’s belief that he knew what was best when it came to Dean. His younger brother knew nothing about Dean, nor ever would. That right was reserved for Michael.

And Michael could not wait, _would_ not wait any longer than he must.

It had been written as certainty, near law, that Dean was his mate. Not in all the eons of post-creation had what was destined proved to be false. There were always rumors of it, especially in the pre-creation days when the humans were no more than a thought in their beloved’s father mind, but Michael saw no reason to put stock in any rumor, and thought lowly of those who did. There was no reason why Dean shouldn’t be his mate, only that Gabriel should seek to play games with the angel and with Michael.

Then again, Gabriel always _had_ been prone to theft of whatever gains Michael had procured for himself. More often than not it was nothing more than Gabriel’s overly playful and borderline devious nature. It would continue to be so now, if Gabriel did not step out of line and try Michael’s patience and infinitely giving nature.

Michael wanted to see Dean’s face light up whenever he, _his mate_ , came into view. He wanted Dean’s grace to merge with his own so he would always know Dean’s thoughts and feelings and intentions as if they were his own. He wanted Dean’s wings to glow so vibrantly, doused in Michael’s colors mixed in with his own, that everyone immediately knew that he was Michael’s.

The time would come where Dean would start to slip away, ignore his grace and follow instincts that he deemed _just_. Michael had to prevent that and guide him down his chosen path. It wasn’t merely that Michael _wanted_ , what he had in store for the angel was Dean’s destiny.

Michael knew that the time was _now._

* * *

 

The last day of their training had resulted in a fight between Araes and Meris, brother and sister unable to relent and allow one to succeed. Dean had tried to reign them in but only received a tear in his wing for his troubles before the fighting resumed. He had not thought the damage was grievous enough to require healing, but after he gathered his weapons once the victor was acknowledged, walking back to his bunker to pack, he realized how foolish he had been.

Whether he would have wished it or not, his grace sent out a distress call to his mate: Michael. Dean really didn’t feel like seeing Michael at the moment, especially since he had abandoned Dean in his Father’s home without a word after the celebration, yet he knew he was completely out of his depth when it came to the injury he had sustained, regardless of his murky thoughts.

There was an alarming amount of grace leaking out of his wings, soon coating his hands and making his back uncomfortably sticky. Not only that but his sight was starting to fail, a wave of dizziness washing over him like a crushing wave and causing him to stumble. Dean tried to keep his balance but failed, panicking as his wings collapsed without retracting, which meant they were bent awkwardly and Dean could do nothing about it. He clenched his hands at the pain, unable to lay on his back because it would mean lying on his compromised, throbbing wings, so when he couldn’t sit upright anymore he settled on his front, hard ground digging into his chest, which felt unbearably tight.

Tears stung at his eyes. He knew nothing about distress calls, had no way of calling for help if it hadn’t worked.

Someone’s hand was on his back then, massaging the area between his wings. Dean opened his leaking eyes and saw Gabriel bending over him, huge amber eyes examining him with uncharacteristic care. Dean bit his lip at the pain, yet it was also because he was frustrated. None of this made any sense. Michael should be here, _not_ Gabriel. How the hell did Gabriel even find him unless he was stalking him?

No, not stalking, he prodded himself back to wakefulness. As an archangel, Gabriel had every right to follow Dean and monitor his progress. He had every right to take a professional interest in Dean and he should be grateful for this.

As if the thought of Michael not hearing his distress call wasn’t painful enough, paired with his own potential incapability at rendering such a call, the thought of Michael knowing that Dean was hurt but sending Gabriel in his stead was too agonizing to bear. Not because Dean desired Michael’s attention, but because the mate that was his should be the one comforting him, not his mate’s infectious brother.

Yet he was only tormented. Duty called for one thing but lingering desires at the back of his mind and the doubts they produced demanded another. He could not deny the interest in Gabriel, the pull that two archangels couldn’t possibly feel for him. He couldn’t deny how Gabriel made him feel full of pride and even alive, like he had made Dean a thousand promises he had never spoken, like there had already been long conversations between them when there had been mere _words._

“What…,” Dean bit back a groan and tried again. “What are you doing here, Gabe…?”

Gabriel tsked, running a gentle hand through Dean’s uninjured wing. It felt good, calmed him down considerably, but it probably only had to do with the pain settled at his back. “How’s about saving your stupid ass?”

Dean’s eyes widened at Gabriel’s language. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before, he just never expected Gabriel to be so blunt towards him. The severity of the archangel’s words sunk in then, causing nothing but guilt: a sharp, black liquid that pooled in Dean’s stomach, weighing down his weakening grace. Gabriel shouldn’t be the one here helping him, there was no reason for him to be.

He must have opened his mouth and tried to say something because Gabriel shushed him and then picked him up in his arms, cradling him carefully so as not to put unneeded pressure on his back, which was already beginning to grow numb.

“This might feel a little weird?”

“Huh…?” Dean gasped aloud at the feel of Gabriel’s grace seeping into him. He had no doubt that it was healing him, taking away his injuries and the pain that accompanied them, but there was no way it should feel this good.

To Michael, who Dean’s thoughts strayed to nervously, it felt like nothing other than betrayal. Maybe that was why he sobbed - and berated himself immediately afterward - and tried to push Gabriel away, and maybe it was why Gabriel shushed him, held him tighter and continued as if letting Dean escape and succumb to exhaustion would only acknowledge the betrayal they were both committing. It wasn’t forbidden for an angel to heal another if not their intended, but it was near taboo. It raised unnecessary questions and always led to consequences for both angels. It would have been better if Gabriel had left him here to bleed out, would have healed the rift Dean was already forming between the brothers.

He wasn’t worth this so he pushed again, foolishly with every ounce of strength he had remaining. Gabriel held him firm, the glare his first warning and the second would be much worse, but if Dean’s intentions were to save Gabriel then they were only good. And Gabriel knew, the haunted look in his eyes was as stark as any order Dean had ever been given. More so. That one look was so raw and hurtful and Dean shoved at Gabriel because he wasn’t his, because Gabriel had come when Michael hadn’t, because Michael was cold, unforgiving rain and Gabriel was the rebellious sun and that sun would burn so brightly until it eradicated everything it laid its gaze upon. Even Dean.

But it all didn’t matter because Dean was nothing.

* * *

He woke in darkness rather than light, and despite seeing the room only once before he realized with a sinking feeling that it was Michael’s.

Cold fingers that were merely shadows grasped at his bare arms, terrorizing him. He wondered whether Michael had already claimed him, despite it being entirely unorthodox for him to do so without a claiming ceremony. Michael wouldn’t, he attempted to calm himself, the archangel was all pomp and circumstance, all ritual and protocol and even to spite Gabriel he wouldn’t sneak out, stealing Dean as his intended. Not stealing, just claiming. Dean had to consent, as much as that consent could be manipulated. Michael would be a fool if he achieved Dean’s consent by sheer force rather than persuasion in the face of undeniable fact, but while Dean wouldn’t fear it from Gabriel, he did from Michael.

Dean didn’t feel any different, so no, Michael had yet to claim him. _Soon._ But he didn’t _know_ Michael. Knew his capabilities yet not his intentions, essentially nothing, and Gabriel couldn’t save him. Why would he want Gabriel to save him in the first place?

Except Gabriel had already saved him…

And then Dean heard the arguing beyond the wall, and Gabriel’s voice just made everything a whole lot _worse._

“You didn’t hear his distress call, Mike. Isn’t that a bit odd?”

“I was preoccupied,” Michael reassured his brother. Gabriel reasoned that Michael had no need to reassure himself, as stupidly blind as he was, and Dean recoiled as he realized that these profane and familial thoughts _couldn_ _’t_ be coming from him. So from where? And for what purpose? There was plenty of evidence that Dean was already Michael’s, if not for how their graces interlocked as they should. Gabriel was meant to bring Dean into the folds of their family, if anything. He had no real claim on Dean. Did he? Yet the voices didn’t stop, and neither did Dean’s grace-deep and eternally distressing confusion. “I assure you, Gabriel, it won’t happen again.” _Wouldn_ _’t bet on it._ The words were like a slap in Dean’s face, though for some reason Michael’s voice didn’t bring him back, left merely as background noise in his disorientation. “Thank you, brother. For healing my mate.”

Dean realized that the word _mate_ coming from Michael’s mouth was full of so much confidence and longing, but nothing else in Dean’s short existence had ever felt so hollow. Gabriel’s piercing amber eyes seemed to follow him down where he hid, where he didn’t want anyone to find him.

Dean closed his eyes and he was _there_ , in that room as if he were standing there, only he wasn’t. He was inside Gabriel’s head, felt as Gabriel forcefully shoved Michael out of his head so as not to betray his trembling. Gabriel chucked it up to adrenaline after healing Dean when it was anything but, and Dean could see, _feel,_ every bit of Gabriel’s deep-seated desire and frustration. Gabriel was furious, furious that Dean had been hurt, that Dean was holding himself back and _lying_ to himself, furious that Michael persisted with further _lies._ Dean experienced the betrayal and desperation as if it were his own, only Dean had never felt any of these emotions at such a magnitude and all at once. It was… overwhelming. It made Dean want to tear apart everything he was, everything these two archangels saw in him so as to save them.

So as to feel anything but _need_ and _fury_ and _pain._

Maybe if he had been in Michael’s head, maybe if he saw Gabriel’s thoughts duplicated there, even to a lesser extent due to Michael’s rational nature. If Dean could be given some sign to support what was demanded, what was meant to be, then maybe there would be no doubts. Maybe Gabriel would feel like no more than a friend or a brother. Maybe then Gabriel’s pain wouldn’t be clawing at his grace, begging for release and for reconciliation. Begging for a forgiveness Dean didn’t understand.

Dean couldn’t form his own thoughts with Gabriel’s claiming every ounce of who he was, so he succumbed. The emotions and growing tension in the room, things which Dean had never wanted to cause in the first place, pummeled against Dean’s grace, feeling like actual blows to his wings and to his very being. Despite Gabriel’s thorough healing, his back began to heat up and burn, his body and grace still present with him despite the unwilling intrusion into Gabriel’s head. This burning sensation intensified until Dean had no way of knowing whether he was screaming at Gabriel.

 _Not your mate. Mine._ Gabriel finished with a deadly finality, and Dean’s disbelieving gasp choked off as he was shoved out of Gabriel’s head. He didn’t remember anything else after that.

* * *

The nerve that Gabriel had to question what every ounce of Michael’s grace told him to be true was simply astounding. To insult his older brother in such a way, to blatantly disregard every scrap of love and respect heaven and Michael himself had gifted him, it enraged Michael to a point where he wanted to rip his own brother in two, smite him until Gabriel no longer knew who Dean was and could not remember his name, let alone speak it.

Part of this fury, Michael suspected, was directed toward himself, but he would do no more than briefly acknowledge its existence before refuting it. Gabriel’s callous behavior would not reflect on him, and neither would his brother’s doubts. Michael had every reason to falter with all the pressure placed on him at any given time. If Gabriel hadn’t come to Dean so quickly, therefore calming Dean’s distress, if there had been just one more moment then Michael would have heard his distress call, would have dropped everything and come to his soon to be mate immediately.

He would have to take measures to restrain Gabriel, to limit his involvement in Dean’s life, because there was no doubt in Michael’s mind that Dean would soon be his own. Their essence would entwine and they would be one, just as Michael had dreamed for his entire existence. He could feel Dean now, could feel his natural confusion and apprehension that was to come, but soon Michael would fill him with anticipation and a light from merely being at Michael’s side, in his thoughts.

And just as Michael would be sure that Gabriel harbored no doubts likewise, he was also positive that once he took Dean as his mate, Dean would scarcely look upon his brother, let alone feel a connection.


End file.
